


Fallin'

by dannihowell (iguessicantry)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Abuse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-30
Updated: 2016-07-30
Packaged: 2018-07-27 15:20:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7623868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iguessicantry/pseuds/dannihowell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan’s quick rise to fame will be Phil’s downfall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fallin'

Dan’s nervous. He’s cute when he’s nervous. He’s shaking and pacing up and down the hallway behind stage. “You’ll be fine, Bear.”

“What if I choke? What if I forget the words? Wha-”

“Calm down. Okay.” I look him in his brown eyes. They’re watering. He  breaks down from pressure easily. Trust me, I would know. “You can do this. I’ll be here the entire time. No matter what happens, I’ll still let you back into the flat and we’ll go to bed. Take that however you want.” I smile. He smiles back at the thought of us in bed. I think about those piano playing fingers doing thi- never mind. Back to Dan. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he says.

We hear from the stage, “Now, this is a young man with a lot of talent. He has a sweet voice with enormous passion. Please welcome, Dan Howell, to the stage.”

“This is it, Bear.”

“Promise you’ll be here when I’m done.”

“I promise.”

He walks off without looking back. He’s flexing his hands over and over again but this is not for loosening them up. It’s because of nerves. This is his first performance outside of our two room flat. He’s decided to make a go of it and become a musician. I think he’ll be noticed soon. He’s a beautiful piano player, a great singer and he’s very handsome. Very handsome. He starts his tune. It’s slowly, lulling. The intro lasts for about twenty seconds then he starts. His voice flies over the piano and into the air. It’s sweet and breathy like he’s pouring his entire being into each lyric. I fear there will be nothing left of him by the end of this song. I can’t see his face but I know his eyes are closed. His hand are gliding over the keyboard hitting every note perfectly. Why does he insist that he’s horrible? That’s Dan, always underestimating himself. We’ve been ‘close’ since we were 14 but he’s been my boyfriend since we were sixteen. We both came out at the same time and it didn’t go well. I told my brother about Dan and he told my mother casually over dinner. Both of my parents were furious. She called Dan’s parents and the rest is history. Dan never blamed me for it, saying he was going to tell them that night anyway. He couldn’t hide anymore. I still don’t believe him. I moved in with a cousin who already had his own flat. He said Dan could stay.

“I’m still falling…”

Dan finishes the song and they clap. No standing ovation or anything but this will do. He walks calmly off stage towards me and as soon as he is hidden but the huge black curtains, he runs to hug me. “That was terrifying.”

“You were amazing, Dan.”

He shakes his head and rests it on my shoulder. He’s precious when he’s like this. The manager of the cafe hands him his check and we head home and go to bed. Take that however you want.

* * *

Dan doesn’t get as nervous anymore. He’s more comfortable before going on stage. He doesn’t need me to hold his hand until the very last second. He’s peck me on the cheek and he’s off. His set lists are longer now. More songs added to his repertoire. I stay up all night with him while he practices for hours and writes as he goes along. I still go to my job the next day, tired but content. My Dan is happier now than I had ever seen him. He gets more gigs all over the city. Some are bad. Some are just downright disgusting but he plays them all the same. Tonight, we’re in a rundown club. Just as we’re leaving, a guy our age comes up to us and says his name is Mac. He has a band that’s looking for new lead singer and Dan would be perfect. Dan’s unsure and I tell him why not see what it’s like first.

A week later, we’re in someone’s flat in south London. Dan’s now their lead singer it seems. They play a song with him, Mac on drums and his two cousins Antony and Dom who play guitar and bass. They love Dan’s voice and ask him to bring his songs next time they meet. The next time I go with him, they’re filming a song Dan wrote one night when I stayed up with him. It was about us and he let them know. They said it was cool. No further discussion. The song was a sweet ballad about a boy who’d found love in the most obvious place but couldn’t have it. People tried to take it away at every turn. He kept it hidden in a box under his bed, a subtle hint to those pictures I took (another story for another time). They stormed in asking questions, accusing him, searching the room. His secret is out. It’s out and he’s out. His love starts to grow as he runs away with the box close to his chest and he trips. Dan sings the last line, “I’m falling…” I press stop on the camera and he smiles shyly.

A month later, Dan tells me to get online. Search for the video and I told him I don’t need to. It’s right here. There’s already over a million views. Dan gets an email from a producer. He thinks they’re good. No, like really good and they should come by and play for him. They do and he only wants Dan. He promises him a contract and he says no. He wants to stay with his band. The producer gives in. Dan tells me all about it when I get home from my job as a sales clerk, fancy name for cashier but it pays for half the rent on this tiny flat and the light bill. When Dan first began getting more gigs to play, he quit his job. Sometimes the gigs were weeks in between and he didn’t have enough money to cover the rent. I’d work double shifts and gotten another job. I didn’t care. Dan was going places and he wouldn’t leave me behind.

* * *

Dan and his bandmates have just recorded their first single and it’s exciting. He’s grinning from ear to ear, his dimp- Oh, God I love those dimples. I wave sheepishly to him behind the glass but he doesn’t get a chance to wave back. His producer rushes in and tells him something.

Later that night, he says we’ll have to hide our relationship. No one can know about us yet. Apparently, the producer wasn’t paying attention to the video and didn’t know Dan was gay. And Dan was sick of hiding, and Dan was in love. No, he missed all of it.

They’ve been on talk shows and morning shows. Night gigs and concerts played all over Britain. Most times, I can’t go to support him. I have to work. I always have to work. I miss him but when he comes home– I love it when he comes home.

Dan told me to quit my job. We’re rich he says. We are rich. I never thought I’d hear those words from him. We always struggled. He starts spending. He buys everything we talked about on those cold nights when we couldn’t afford heat. He laid beneath me, my arm over his waist, my hand stroking up and down his stomach. Dan buys a house. He buys a house in a posh neighbourhood and I don’t fit in. The neighbours stare when they see me. They know about us and they don’t like it. I thought we were in style.

He buys a car. I tell him to calm down. We don’t need this. He tells me to stop being silly. We’re in our new place and he’s just gotten home from another concert that was too far for me to tag along. His lips ghost over mine and I swear his eyes will be the death of me. He’s staring right into my own as he speeds up. He grabs me, my breath hitches. “I love you,” he whispers. I’m coming down still staring into his brown eyes. We lay there for a while. “You’re coming with us next time,” he says. His lips find mine again. His lips are still chapped and I laugh.

The next morning he goes on national television and tells everyone about me. Dan tells the world that he’s in love with me. I’m standing backstage watching the entire thing. His manager is seething. Dan comes off stage and before I can tell him how brave he is, he’s taken from me. I see him twenty minutes later. He says we should go home. His manager’s fears were allayed, as the band just got more popular. We couldn’t walk the streets anymore without someone recognizing him. We had to take special routes home so we weren't followed. As a fan asked for a picture or autograph, I stood there silent soaking it all in. I was his and all these people wanted him. Dan shot to fame so quickly that when I blinked, he was gone. He was gone.

It’s been a year and half since Dan recorded that video with the band. He’s not the same. I would like to say he’s growing up but that can’t be it. He acts differently around me. He doesn’t ask for my opinions anymore. He just does. He’s changed. His songs aren’t about us anymore. It’s fair to change creatively but this change scares me. He’s completely avoiding the subject of _us_  now. In interviews, he steers the question right into a brick wall. He’s not answering them. He’s coming off as rude and the world lets him know. He drops the band and goes solo. He’ll go away now for months at a time. I quit my job a long time ago and I want to go with him and hold his hand before he goes on stage. I want to hug him when he’s done. He says no. I can’t. He sees my disappointment and says “No. Phil, you can’t come.” He treats me like child sometimes. Calls me things I have never heard him say before. We’ve been together for so long. I never thought I would lose respect for him while I seemed to have lost it for myself. I never told him no. I never told him he was out of line; that the fame was getting to his head. He would just tell me to fuck off.

He goes out without me now. Dan doesn’t tell me where he goes but when he comes home, he reeks of alcohol and his clothes aren’t the same colour they were 12 hours ago. One morning, I wake up to find him clawing at the bedroom door. I closed it last night out of habit from my teen years. When you’re so afraid of who you are, you don’t let anyone have the option of finding you while you slept. I had a box just like Dan’s. I open the door and he pushes me into the room, onto the bed where he climbs on top of me and asks, “Why are you here!”

I tell him I live here with him. It’s Phil. Why doesn’t he remember me? His eyes are red and he smells like alcohol and weed. Is he on drugs? What else is he on? He’s stronger than I remember. I keep telling him it’s Phil. It’s Phil. It’s Phil and I see a glint of realization. “Sorry,” is all he says to me. Dan rolls over and falls asleep in his soiled clothes. I can’t sleep now. There’s a monster in my bed.

It happens again more often than I’m proud to admit. You may say why do you keep opening the door? He’ll find a way to come in and then he’ll be even angrier. He goes away on tour again, leaving me bruised but in peace. “I’m still falling” plays over and over in my head. I can’t leave him. I love him and he loves me. I see an interview he did on a talk show in America on the internet and the large busted host asks him if anyone still has his heart. He teases the crowd a little and says, “No.” She squeals, “He’s single ladies! We should get together later.”

I confront him about it. Why didn't he tell me he didn't want this anymore? Was I just supposed to wait for him while he has his fun? Am I supposed to be the one in London while he has another in New York and Paris? He hits me. I pause; I see no signs of drugs or alcohol. He’s just angry. I’m on the ground and everything’s going blurry. He says, “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” into my ear. I can’t hear him anymore and the pain over my left eye dissipates.

The sound of beeping enters my ears, vibrating against my ear drum. It’s annoying. But then I hear a sweet voice singing, “I’m still falling, falling…”

“Dan?”

“Phil? You’re awake! Thank god. I didn’t mean it baby. I’m so sorry. I do love you. So much it hurts.”

“Shh,” I say, he’s scared, wringing his hands. I believe him. I love him. “Can I ask you something, Bear?”

He laughs because I haven’t called him since the last time we- whatever. He says anything. “Why the drugs?”

“I-I started smoking and drinking on the road. I wanted to lose myself in the moment. Everyone wanted so much from me. I missed you and couldn’t– I couldn’t write, I couldn’t compose so I started taking the harder stuff to help me focus or relax. Sometimes just for fun.”

“You hurt me, Bear.” My voice breaks a little.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t sorry. He was high again; on something I didn’t see or smell. Dan sees me in the doorway and lunges at me screaming something. I run to our bedroom and lock the door. I left my phone downstairs and he’s pounding at the door. He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t stop and I’m tired but if I fall asleep he’ll come in and hurt me. I have to stay awake. I have to st–.

The sunlight pools in through the window. I’m lying on the floor, in front of the door. I remember his eyes last night; manic, bloodthirsty. I look at the time. It’s 2:04 in the afternoon the alarm clock tells me. I hear nothing outside the door so I think it must be safe to go out. He must have crashed by now. The floorboards creak as I pad into the hallway. There’s no sign of him. I walk into the kitchen, I stare him right in the face. He opens his mouth and there sits a little blue pill. He smirks as I watch him swallow.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr  
> [dannihowell](https://danni-howell.tumblr.com/)


End file.
